


Show Me Love

by nihilistending



Series: Don't Let Me Think Too Long [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: But this is what I was going for here., Daddy Kink, Dom Dirk Strider, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Somehow the word Daddy is not explicitly said., Sub Dave Strider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 22:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12095007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilistending/pseuds/nihilistending
Summary: A comical expression flicks over his face, one that you’d sooner recognize as a child realizing he just got caught out of bed past the time he should be asleep. “Dirk,” his voice comes out high initially and he coughs to clear his throat, folding his hands primly on the edge of the desk in front of him and sitting up straighter. “What’re you doing up this late?”Mmmhm. That’s cute. He’s trying to be parental.





	Show Me Love

These days you don’t wake to an empty bed often and you wake to an empty home even less. 

It was rougher when you were still in high school. Almost every day in a month you would come home from school to an empty apartment, go to bed after turning off all the lights and locking up the door, wake to everything exactly as you left it. That changed at some point just before you graduated three years ago; like Dave thought that, if he weren’t there to stop you, you’d’ve bolted out the door the day you graduated to go live on your own. Though, technically, you’d  _ been _ living on your own for years at that point.

You stir in the early morning - two, verging on three - to the other half of Dave’s wide bed empty and cold. After stretching your upper body over the place where his body should be, you grumble and shove off the blankets with a sneaking suspicion as to where you’ll find your missing brother.

Dave hasn’t left in the middle of the night in months, hasn’t left without letting you know in even longer, so you know with barely a sliver of a doubt that he’s in the house somewhere.

The study is the first place you check and - as you expected - you find Dave at his desk with his chin propped up on his hand and a pen between the fingers cupping his cheek. He’s pretty cute like this, cheek pushed up and reading glasses crookedly perched on his nose. As you lean up against the doorway his eyes snap to you and you follow the motion of his free hand as it stubs out a cigarette into the crystal ashtray beside his laptop.

A comical expression flicks over his face, one that you’d sooner recognize as a child realizing he just got caught out of bed past the time he should be asleep. “Dirk,” his voice comes out high initially and he coughs to clear his throat, folding his hands primly on the edge of the desk in front of him and sitting up straighter. “What’re you doing up this late?”

_ Mmmhm. _ That’s cute. He’s trying to be parental.

“What are  _ you _ doing up this late?” you counter, straightening your posture and stalking forward to his desk. Both your palms brace against the desk and Dave slides his fingers off the wood to his lap. Probably without even realizing it.

“Uhh…” Dave clears his throat looking from your eyes to the computer and back again. You extend a hand to guide his chin, bring his eyes back to yours. They soften where they’d been narrowed to a sleepy squint and your fingers drift along his cheek to the arm of his thin frames, drawing off his glasses and setting them on the desk after neatly folding them.

You take a second to line them up parallel to the edge of the desk. 

“Save your work,” you direct, “and shut it off.”

“But-”

“Dave,” you whisper sternly. He sighs, drops his eyes back to the screen of his computer and goes back to squinting as he taps the first button of his mouse once, twice, three, four and then five times. As his hand curls back off of the mouse you push the screen of his laptop down in a long, unhurried motion.

Motioning Dave forward with a curl of your finger, you back away from the desk toward the door. “Come with me,” you order softly, only turning back to the door once he’s pushed back his chair and stood. You know he intends to follow, even when you hear the muted  _ click _ of him taking the time to switch off the light before he obeys you.

You stop short of the door to Dave’s room (practically your shared room, if not for the rare night you spend in your own when you’re in the middle of intense projects) and turn to face him. “I’m gonna go get you some water. Go to the bathroom, brush your teeth and wash your face. A’right?”

“Yeah,” Dave murmurs down at his feet, nodding. You’ll cut him some slack there.

“Okay,” you lay your hand on his head and brush his bangs back from his forehead. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Admittedly you rush the trip to the kitchen, walking fast if not jogging, and maybe it’s partially due to wanting to keep your not-quite-promise of only taking a minute. You fill up a cup with water and ice and make your way back more slowly.

Dave is just coming out of the on-suite when you return to him, stopping short a few feet of the bed when you offer out the cup. Obeying your unspoken command, he takes the cup and takes a small drink - more than a sip but not much more - before setting it down on the nightstand. The glass only taps the wood before Dave lifts it to slide a coaster underneath.

“Good boy,” you praise, spreading both your palms over his shoulder-blades and  _ feeling _ him relax under your words. When you slide your arms down and around his waist to hug him from behind, you smile obviously and shamelessly against his neck as a shudder rolls over his body.

“Do you have any appointments in the morning…?” you ask more for his awareness than yours, feel him relax more against your chest when he realizes he doesn’t have anything scheduled until a skype call at two-thirty.

“Not until two-ish…” he replies, then corrects himself at a lower mumble: “two-thirty.”

Pressing a soft kiss behind his ear, you draw back. “Good. Take off your clothes, I’ll get you something to sleep in.” You draw back, letting your hands linger at his waist to stabilize him before you depart for the dresser.

Just as you pull one of the drawers open you hear the sound of his pants hitting the floor. You wait, listening until he picks them up and - probably - drops them in the hamper. His shirt follows. You turn and come back to him with a folded, soft grey shirt and black boxer-briefs. These are his second favorites to sleep in - the first are already in the hamper, along with the third.

Dave hesitates just before he reaches you, worrying his lower lip. “Hey,” he says slowly, “do you think you could… um… please…?”

Tonight you don’t demand more than that, just set his shirt aside on the bed to hold out his underwear, fingers hooked into the waistband. He sits at the edge of the bed, offers you one foot and then the other to slide the material over his legs for him. You repeat with his shirt, nodding for him to lift his arms so that you can slide his hands through the proper holes, bring the shirt down around his head and smooth it down his chest.

“Better?” you ask him as you cup his cheeks, wait for him to nod before you lean in to press a kiss to his forehead, then the crown of his head.

“Yeah…” he sighs belatedly, curling his arms timidly around your slim waist. They’re too big for how he feels, really. “Thanks, Bro…”

“My pleasure,” you whisper back to him, combing your fingers through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck in a little massage. “Come on,” you say when you slowly pull back from him, hands cupping his biceps. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Okay,” he agrees, nuzzling into your chest once more before turning to crawl up the length of the bed to the headboard. If you weren’t sleeping with him you might take the time to come around and tuck him in, but instead you just round the bed to your side and climb in until you meet him in the center.

“You had a busy night,” you point out as you wrap your arms around him. Instead of having to wrangle him into a proper cuddle, the two of you fall into it more easily now. To be fair, you’ve practiced a lot. “It’s going to take some work to get you back on a proper sleep schedule tomorrow…”

“I know,” he murmurs, yawning halfway through the word.

“As long as you get your rest,” you rub Dave’s chest, trying to soothe him as he squirms against you and turns to press his nose against your cheek.

“About… about that…” your eyes reopen at the words that stumble out of his mouth, half expecting an admission that he’s flying out tomorrow night and he’s going to have to sleep in a plane without you. “Can… uh… do you think - you could…” he twists to hide his face against your neck, huddling his body against yours and trying his best to  _ subtly _ curl his thighs around one of your legs.

“Could what?” you ask, trying your best not to let your smirk bleed through into your voice. Even as he struggles with his words his body couldn’t be more obvious.

_ “You know,” _ he whimpers, “just… to help me sleep? Please?”

“What d’you want me to do?” you ask, curling your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as he pushes you over onto your back, crawling on top of you carefully - like he’s still trying to be sneaky about it.

_ “Just… _ ” he makes a frustrated noise,  _ “touch me.”  _

“Oh?” you breathe the word against his cheek before you kiss it. “Where?”

Now he hides his face deeper into your neck, mumbling the words against your skin. “Uh-uh,” you scold, pulling his head back by the hair and encouraging him to look at you. His eyes are droopy with either sleepiness or lust, pupils blown and bottom lip between his teeth. On your lap he squirms, non subtly grinding, making these eager and boyish little gasps already. “Where?” you ask again.

“My dick,” he whines.

“Mmm,” you hum like you’re thinking it over, dragging your fingers down his neck and over the length of his chest. He shivers and his eyebrows twist together in the sweetest way, his hands gripping the sheets under your bed tighter to ground him as his hips jerk against yours. He’s not even hard yet, he’s just so mentally aroused he’s almost overstimulated by your smallest touch. It’s extremely flattering.

_ “Please, _ Bro…” he gasp, on the verge of sobbing really, and you shouldn’t tease him. He’s really being so good, trying so hard.

“Okay,” you relent, and the relief he displays is so stark you might’ve thought you’d already laid your hands on him if you weren’t looking straight at them. “Can you get my shirt off?”

“Yeah!” he agrees, the word breathed quick and his hands already pushing the hem of your shirt up to your armpits. He strips it off when you let him, and tosses it to the edge of the bed- where it hangs for a few seconds before dropping to the floor in a sad  _ fwip. _

You push his shorts down his hips, just enough to get his dick comfortably out, and hold the weight of it in your hand as you reach for the lube on the nightstand. “I’ve got you,” you reassure, “don’t worry. I’m right here.” He nods, spreading his legs wider around your hips and tipping his head back as you wrap your slick hand around him. 

_ “Bro,” _ Dave cries, rocking his hips to push his cock into the circle of your fist. Head lolling forward again, his blush down to his chest and his hands balling back up in the sheets, Dave puffs out his moans in clipped little pants. With your free hand you drag him down against you and roll Dave over onto his back. He’s more comfortable like this, it’s easier to kiss him and easier to be close to him - which you know he wants.

As you jerk him steadily faster and faster, you duck your head into Dave’s neck and renew the little marks left there. His hands clutch at your back and steadily inch their way up to your shoulders and into your hair. His legs slide up your thighs and over your hips - effectively locking you against him as he grinds up into your hand and sobs into your temple. 

A mantra of  _ please, please, pleasepleaseplease  _ has started up as you get Dave closer and closer to release. You don’t know what he’s begging for if not for you to just stay with him, stay close, keep touching him, keep him safe - and you’re not sure that he knows, either. If you asked him now, he couldn’t tell you. All he can say is  _ please _ and  _ Bro. _

When he comes you make sure that it’s into your palm and not all over the clothes you just changed him into. He goes loose and panting, shaking all over after you get him off and he only whimpers a little as he watches you lick your hand and your fingers clean. “I wanna help you…” he murmurs pitifully when you reach for a tissue to wipe your hand dry. 

“Shhh..” you hush softly. “In the morning,” you promise against his lips, kissing him several times in quick succession. His eyes are already fluttering shut, trying so hard to stay open. A soft, almost alarmed noise hitches in his throat as you slowly draw your legs over his thigh to settle into place behind him. You tuck him carefully back into his shorts, adjust the waistband to sit comfortably where it was meant, and pull him back against your chest with one arm while the other hand tugs the blankets up. 

By the time you’re satisfied with the blankets and have tucked your face into the back of his neck, he’s fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Raw and unedited, possibly more to come in a series of general fluffy Daddy!Dirk because I love this. Tell me what you think!


End file.
